


I Loved You, I Always Do

by legendtripper



Series: Real Domestic Hours [2]
Category: Detroit Evolution (2020), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: And It's Very Soft And Cute, DE ArtFest, DEArtfest, Detroit Evolution Artfest, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Inspired by Octopunk Media's Detroit: Evolution Fan Film, M/M, Nines Has The Brain Scrambles, Octopunk Media, Octopunk Media's Detroit: Evolution Fan Film, Post-Octopunk Media's Detroit: Evolution Fan Film, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25263925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendtripper/pseuds/legendtripper
Summary: Nines gets revenge on Gavin, but his revenge involves almost dying, so really, who's the winner here?OR: It's Nines's turn to be deliriously adorable.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Series: Real Domestic Hours [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830304
Comments: 13
Kudos: 167





	I Loved You, I Always Do

**Author's Note:**

> Day Ten of DEArtfest! Sickfic! I swear I'll start posting on time at some point, but for now, accept another late prompt. As per the usual, here are some shoutouts, one for [salemforshort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/salemforshort), for leaving humorous comments on my outline, and one for [DomLerrys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DomLerrys/pseuds/DomLerrys), for being a kickass beta reader!
> 
> Once again, a massive thank you to [Michelle Iannantuono](https://twitter.com/ladytuono) for organizing this lovely event!
> 
> Note: While this is technically a sequel to "Take It From The Top", it's not necessary for you to read that one first, it can be just as easily enjoyed without the earlier context.
> 
> Title from "Moonwrapped" by Richard Edwards.

If there’s one thing Gavin Reed hates more than hospitals, it’s Elijah Kamski. If Nines’s life wasn’t in his hands, there’s no doubt in Gavin’s mind he would’ve punched that smug fucker in the face already. But as it stands, Kamski’s fingers are flying across a mechanical keyboard that looks straight out of the early 2010s, frantically trying to pull Nines out of an irreversible shutdown.

Gavin paces around the lab, not wanting to interrupt but incapable of sitting still. He gnaws at his nails, a habit frequently broken and even more often resumed in times of high stress. And goddammit, this certainly counts, he should be granted a little fingernail chewing.

It was supposed to be a simple case. They had their suspect cornered in an abandoned hotel, solid intel on the layout and how many people were expected to be guarding him, and a whole cohort of backup vehicles to accompany them if things got out of hand.

“You ready, Terminator?” Gavin had asked, cocking his handgun. Nines had just rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to Gavin’s temple.

“You’re insufferable,” he murmured, and Gavin had grinned as cheekily as he could.

And then Tina had yelled at them to _get a fuckin’ room_ from the squad car and Fowler gave the order to move in.

All was going swimmingly until Gavin heard Nines _scream_ from somewhere down another hallway. When they rounded the corner, their suspect was unconscious on the floor, which Gavin mentally applauded Nines for, but then he caught sight of something that made his blood run cold.

Nines was slumped against the wall, limbs jerking spasmodically, whole body glowing slightly blue. When Gavin bolted forward to check on him, his skin was hot to the touch, Gavin’s hand blistering on contact with it.

“Somebody!” Gavin had shrieked into his walkie talkie. “Come help me!”

It took five officers to safely transport Nines outside. In the end, he had to be stuffed into a body bag to prevent his skin from burning anyone else. Though Gavin knew Nines was still alive—his LED flickered erratically, but at least it was glowing at all—the visual still twisted in his gut.

The ambulance ride to Kamski’s stupid fucking mansion was far too long for Gavin’s liking. Several android technicians bustled around Nines’s comatose body, plugging wires into ports Gavin didn’t even know his boyfriend _had_ , frowning at the lines of code that flashed across their screens that Gavin couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Gavin just sat in the corner, legs curled into his chest, wishing he could hold Nines’s hand.

They were received by Kamski and his entourage of Chloes, a concept that still creeped Gavin the fuck out, who toted Nines inside and took him to the basement lab, Gavin nipping at their heels. Gavin couldn’t even bring himself to care that he was in a literal celebrity’s house; Nines was in danger, and also, said celebrity was kind of a douchebag and also possibly the reason Gavin’s life sucked for five years. Then again, he inadvertently gave Gavin Nines, so his karmic balance came out a wash in Gavin’s mind.

Nines is currently suspended from a contraption the size of a minivan, divested of his clothes, revealing just his synthskin. It’s an entirely more elaborate setup than the one from several months ago, where Nines had lied flat on a simple bed, reminiscent of an autopsy table. Now, hanging in a way that reminds Gavin of a marionette, lifeless and puppetlike, Gavin isn’t sure which setup he prefers.

From between the seams of Nines’s plating, Gavin can see the blue light has faded a bit. He hopes that’s a good sign.

“Would you mind, terribly, leaving my lab?” Kamski says testily from his position at his monitor, never breaking eye contact with the screen. “Your anxiety is putting me off.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but that’s my _boyfriend_ in there,” Gavin snaps, crossing his arms defensively. “I think I’m allowed a little anxiety.”

“Make no mistake, Detective Reed,” Kamski sneers, “I am not doing this for your benefit. The RK900’s life rides solely on my ability to do my job. Do not try me, my generosity only extends so far. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good.” Kamski rapidly backspaces, a few strands of hair falling in his face. “Now, if you please, _get out_. Chloe will show you out.”

“Fine, fine, I’m going.”

One of the Chloes steps forward with a knowing shake of the head, gently guiding Gavin by the elbow to a flight of stairs.

“My apologies,” she says. “Elijah can be a bit… _much_ when he’s working.”

“Understatement of the century,” Gavin muttrers. Chloe laughs.

“Can I interest you in something to drink while you wait?”

“Um.” The floor seems to sway under Gavin’s feet as the evening’s events start to catch up to him, post-adrenaline crash leaving him weak and dizzy. “Do you have any coffee?”

Chloe smiles softly. “Of course, Detective Reed. I’ll put a pot on.”

Kamski’s kitchen is just as lavish as the rest of the house, but lavish in that annoying rich people way where it looks like nothing’s actually there. The appliances are sleek, gunmetal gray, inlaid into solid black cabinets and polished granite countertops. Straight out of a fucking sci-fi novel.

One of the other ST200s offers to take his coat, but he waves her off, instead pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing Tina.

She picks up on the second ring.

“Oh my god, Gav, are you okay? Is _Nines_ okay? What’s happening?”

Gavin snorts. Good old Tina, always the most vocal in a crisis. It damn near makes him feel sane.

“Eh, we’ve been better,” Gavin says, rapping his knuckles on the countertop. “I’m doin’ okay, I guess, considering the whole load of shit I’m in. And Nines, well…” He sighs. “I’m not sure. We’re at Kamski’s place. Yes— That Kamski.” He cuts off Tina’s frenzied onslaught of questions. “He’s taking care of it. We think Nines got some sort of virus in his system, but it’s too early to tell anything concrete.”

“Oh, _god_. That sucks, dude. I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll live.” _I hope_.

Tina hums quietly. “Well, call me if you need anything, I’m happy to drive you home, if you want.”

Gavin’s about to turn her down when a thought occurs to him.

“Could you bring me some pajamas or somethin’? I ain’t leavin’ until Nines is okay, and this fucker’s gotta have plenty of guestrooms.”

“What, you’re telling me you _don’t_ wanna sleep in your jeans?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t,” Gavin drawls, picking at the tough denim. “Shocking, I know.”

Tina scoffs. “Oh, shut up. See you in an hour.”

“Thanks, T. You rock.”

“I know.”

“Don’t you make me take that back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!”

The line clicks dead just as Chloe returns with a steaming hot mug of coffee that Gavin can already tell is gonna ruin his taste for the station crap forever in one hand and a silver container boasting three different types of creamers and more sweeteners than Gavin’s ever seen in his life. Chloe merely raises a wry eyebrow as Gavin dumps honey and cinnamon and syrup and cocoa powder and four sweeteners into his coffee, followed by a generous helping of milk. It might taste terrible, for all he knows, but when’s the next time he’s gonna get to drink Elijah Kamski’s shitty capitalist coffee _and_ stay at his house, on his time?

Gavin’s always had a bit of a tendency toward _public nuisance_.

His first sip is scaldingly hot, and Gavin already knows his tongue’s gonna be rough and sandpapery in the coming days, but the flavor is _incredible_. In another world, perhaps, Gavin would consider stealing one or two or seven bags of his roast. And maybe the coffee maker too.

“What do you think?” Chloe asks smugly. “It’s good, right?”

“I suppose.”

Chloe rolls her eyes, LED spinning yellow in amusement for a moment. “I’ll leave you to it. Please don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”

“Sure, sure.” Chloe makes her way toward the basement, but Gavin stops her. “Wait.”

“Yes, Detective Reed?”

“Do you think he’s gonna be okay?”

“The RK900?” Chloe confirms, tilting her head inquisitively.

“Um. Yeah. Nines, I mean.”

Chloe’s expression softens. “I cannot give you an accurate prediction as of now, but I will be sure to alert you if his condition changes.”

Gavin flashes her a terse thumbs up. “Cool. Thanks.”

With that leaves Gavin to his own devices. Quite literally. Gavin spends a ridiculous amount of time trying to guess Kamski’s wifi password—the prick hadn’t even bothered to give it to him in the first place—before finally admitting defeat, at which point he just blasts shitty music on his headphones until Tina gets there, fighting the urge to fire up one of Kamski’s many outdated gaming consoles.

Tina envelops Gavin in one of her signature bear hugs the minute Chloe lets her through the front door, tracking mud and snow across Kamski’s pristine tile floors. Behind her, Valerie totes Gavin’s leather duffel bag, ogling the sleek interior design.

“Hey, T,” Gavin says, running a hand through her hair that Tina playfully swats away before doubling down on her embrace. “Miss me?”

“Fuck you, Gavin,” she sniffles into his chest. “Are you okay?”

“As good as I’m gonna be, I guess.”

Squeezing one last time, Tina disentangles herself from Gavin, wiping at her cheeks. Gavin shoots an awkward salute in Valerie’s direction that she dutifully returns as she approaches.

“How is he?” Valerie asks, dropping the duffel at Gavin’s feet.

Gavin shrugs apologetically. “We don’t know. He’s still, y’know, _messed up_ , but it’s not as bad as before. We just kinda have to wait and see.”

“Shit. That’s awful.” Tina frowns. “You sure you’re alright?”

 _No_. “I’ll be fine.”

Tina knows him well enough that Gavin guarantees she doesn’t believe him, but because she’s _Tina_ , she doesn’t press, and Gavin loves her for that. Instead, she takes Valerie’s hand and wishes him a good night, smiling sadly over her shoulder as she leaves.

Gavin feels terribly alone in this house.

His intentions to spend the night must be clear, because Chloe offers to show him to a spare room, an offer Gavin gratefully accepts. The halls of Kamski’s mansion are labyrinthine in nature, and after a few minutes, Gavin is thoroughly lost, barely bothering to keep track of which lefts, rights, and straightaways they take.

He’s so tired.

The room Chloe deposits him in is massive, far bigger than a single bedroom has any right to be, with an expansive walk-in closet and fully outfitted master bathroom, done up in the same black and dark gray and metal color scheme as the rest of the house. Gavin halfheartedly tosses his duffel into the closet, falling face-first onto the bed— which is unfairly soft, like, _holy shit_. A sudden wave of fatigue pulls Gavin into the mattress. To be honest, Gavin isn’t sure if he’ll be able to sleep; his stomach is tying itself in knots with worry, his heart hammering in his chest.

As it turns out, his insomnia is no match for the exhaustion in his bones. 

He just barely remembers to kick his shoes off before passing out.

Gavin’s always been a light sleeper—years of anxiety, substance abuse, and night terrors have made sure of that—and almost always wakes before sunrise. When Chloe politely shakes him awake the next morning, Gavin does a double take.

_10:44 a.m._

He bolts upright with a thousand questions clamoring for attention in his head, but Chloe cuts him off with a gentleness he can’t even make himself be mad at.

“The RK900 is stable, Detective Reed. Elijah was able to isolate and neutralize the virus that his attacker was able to introduce into his systems. He will be able to come home with you later today.”

Gavin blinks. “Good. That’s… good.”

“Please, get dressed. I’ll show you to breakfast when you’re ready.”

“Oh. Uh, okay.” With that, Chloe exits the room, closing the door behind her. Gavin sleepily drags himself through the motions of changing out of his sweat-stained hoodie and jeans and freshening up. Though Chloe didn’t give him the green light to do so, Gavin takes a shower because goddammit he deserves it (and also the thing has three showerheads, which is a pinnacle of luxury Gavin has only dreamed of for a long time). He pulls on a clean pair of jeans and a new t-shirt, shrugging on his leather jacket on top. While the situation is still entirely shitty, the presence of clothes that—for the most part—don’t reek makes it slightly better.

Unsurprisingly, Kamski’s food service is _incredible_ , just like everything else in the house. A full buffet is laid out, and Gavin heaps his plate with scrambled eggs and toast. Kamski himself is mysteriously absent.

“Elijah spent most of the night repairing the RK900,” Chloe clarifies. “He is sleeping it off now, but I can pass on a message, if you’d like.”

Gavin respectfully declines, choosing instead to just eat his breakfast in peace. Kamski may have saved Nines’s life, but he’s still a pretentious dickwad and Gavin has never been one to forgive, even on the best days. While he eats, another android brings him his personal belongings, all neatly repacked in his duffel. It’s definitely weird, sitting around, doing regular human things while three androids take turns staring at him. He’s not sure how Kamski lives like this.

By the time he finishes, Chloe seems to be getting slightly impatient with him, but is still amiable as ever when she takes him to the basement to collect Nines and brief him on proper maintenance for the coming days.

“What the RK900— _Nines_ ,” she corrects at Gavin’s side-eye, “—has experienced is essentially a high fever. His systems were overloaded by a flood of nonsense information, and his processors overheated when they couldn’t process it fast enough, which, in turn, damaged other vital biocomponents and parts of his programming.”

“That sounds... bad,” Gavin says, for lack of a better word.

Chloe laughs quietly. “It certainly wasn’t ideal, though he’s perfectly fine now. Except…”

“Except _what_?”

“Nothing to be worried about, Detective Reed. All you need to know is that Nines has just come out of a long stasis, and that, combined with the strain on his processors, has made him a bit fragile. Think of it like a human immune system right after a nasty flu.”

“...oh.”

“All you need to do is make sure he stays rested. I’ve already called your offices and secured the both of you sick leave, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Gavin blinks. “Oh. Thanks. Anything else I need to know?”

“Elijah will be mailing you some pouches of specialized Thirium to help Nines recover. Just make sure he drinks one every two hours for a few days. It will help keep him healthy while his coding finishes repairing itself.” Pausing at a door at the end of the hallway, Chloe punches a code into a keypad.

The door slides open with a quiet hiss, revealing something that looks almost like a hospital room, but about a hundred times more sinister, decorated in the same vein as the rest of the house. Nines is lying on a small bed, only one cable still plugged into the port at the base of his skull. Chloe makes her way to a monitor hooked up to a bank of electronic equipment and types something in while Gavin does his best to not trip over the wires running across the floor.

“He should be awake and functioning within five minutes,” Chloe says, finishing whatever she’s doing with a flourish. “But be warned, he might be a little… incoherent.”

“How so?”

“Have you ever had your wisdom teeth removed, Detective Reed?”

Consciously, Gavin knows he has, Nines had debriefed him about it after he was fully conscious. Some perp had clocked him in the jaw, which led to emergency dental surgery, and all that jazz, and Gavin didn’t remember _any_ of it. He only hoped he didn’t say anything stupid. He doesn’t mention any of this to Chloe, of course, but the thought does cross his mind.

What Gavin eventually settles on saying is a simple, “Yeah, why?”

Chloe chuckles. “Well, Nines is currently running a code similar to human anaesthetics. It prevents him from stressing his systems while he heals.”

“...So he’s on android morphine?”

“If you want to call it that.”

Gavin snorts. “Great.”

“You’re free to go as soon as you’re ready. “

“Cool. Thanks.”

With one last nod, Chloe pads out of the room, bare feet nearly silent on the tile floor. Gavin takes up position beside Nines’s bed, resting his hand on Nines’s in a way that reminds him of all those months ago, after Ada nearly took him away for good.

He has no intention to let that happen again.

Nines comes to a few minutes later, blinking sleepily.

“Gavin?” he murmurs, eyes unfocused. “What…” Nines stirs, clearly attempting to sit up, and Gavin rushes to help him up, lifting his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Easy there.” Though Gavin’s smiling good-naturedly, he keeps his hand firmly planted on Nines’s back. “How are you feeling?”

Rubbing his eyes with his hands, Nines groans, “Like I was run over by a semi truck and then the driver decided to back up.”

“Heh. You’re starting to sound like me.”

“An’ whose fault is that?” The synthskin around Nines’s eyes crinkles with mirth.

Gavin snorts. “I take no responsibility for your actions.”

“Well,” Nines says, pressing a kiss to Gavin’s temple, “maybe you should.”

“Shove off, that’s all on you.”

Nines hums, kissing Gavin on the cheek. “Nah, pretty sure tha’s you.”

“Okay, Terminator, it’s time to get you home. Can you walk?”

“Sure can,” Nines says, shooting Gavin a remarkably uncoordinated finger gun. This does not fill Gavin with great confidence. “Hehe. Sure can, Tin Can. S’a good pun.”

“Sure.” Gavin rolls his eyes. “Now, c’mon. Show me what you got.”

Nines bites at his bottom lip, scrunching his face in a way that reminds Gavin that Nines is technically only two years old. He plants his hands firmly on the bed beside him.

And then he doesn’t move.

Gavin raises an eyebrow. “You comin’ or what?”

“I am!” Nines protests. “See, I’m up.”

“Oh my god, babe.” Gavin pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let me help you.”

“Don’t need your help,” Nines mutters. “‘M up.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Am too!”

“You’re still on the bed, Nines.”

With a start, Nines looks down and seems to realize that he is, indeed, sitting down. He stares at Gavin with wide eyes and Gavin has to laugh at his expression of utter shock and betrayal.

“Don’t laugh, ‘s mean.” Nines crosses his arms, and—God help Gavin— _pouts_.

“I think it’s time to go home.”

Nines brightens immediately, holding his arms out, and Gavin happily obliges, hauling Nines up and tossing his arm over his shoulder. Together, the two of them march out of Kamski’s massive fucking house to the autotaxi waiting outside, Nines mumbling incomprehensible gibberish as they go. At least he sounds happy enough.

On the ride back to Gavin’s apartment, Nines falls asleep almost immediately, head dropping onto Gavin’s lap in a rather ungainly fashion. Grateful there isn’t a human driver to contend with, Gavin busies himself with running his fingers through Nines’s hair, grateful that he’s no longer painful to touch. Maybe it should worry him that Nines is _sleeping_ , because honestly, Gavin didn’t think androids even _did_ that, but Chloe’s words from earlier echo in his mind, a gentle reassurance that Nines will be fine.

He’s fine.

Nines takes too long to wake up when they get to Gavin’s apartment, so, desperate to not rack up any more charge than he has to, Gavin carries Nines bridal-style up the stairs, knees buckling under the surprising weight of his body. In his half-awake state, Nines nestles his head into Gavin’s neck and Gavin does his best to resist spontaneously combusting.

There’s a package waiting outside Gavin’s door, rather conspicuously lacking a postmark.

 _That’ll be the Thirium_ , Gavin muses, fishing for his keys, which turns out to be a much more complicated process when hefting one’s android boyfriend. Eventually, he gets it figured out and awkwardly kicks the door open, wincing as it bangs into the wall.

It seems like an endless trek from the foyer to the bedroom, and Gavin’s back is aching by the time he unceremoniously dumps Nines into the bed. He complains under his breath the entire time as he retrieves the box of Thirium, ripping open the cardboard to read the printed instructions left for him. They’re fairly intuitive; one pouch per every two hours, keep refrigerated when not in use. Gavin shrugs, pulling out a single pouch and shoving the rest of the box deep into the depths of his fridge.

Checking in on the bedroom, Gavin finds Nines clumsily pulling on a t-shirt, stumbling around the room like a newborn deer, all gangly limbs and uncoordinated clunkiness.

“Whoa there,” Gavin says, putting his arms around Nines’s waist to steady him as he wrestles with the shirt. “You alright, Tin Can?”

“Fine.” It comes out muffled, as Nines still has half the fabric of the shirt in his mouth.

Gavin rolls his eyes. “Hold your arms up. And _stop moving_ , wouldja?”

Huffing, Nines does as he’s told, allowing Gavin to pull the shirt down over his head and brush his hair back into place. Nines smiles in that contained, secretive way of his that Gavin loves, absentmindedly picking at the hem.

“You’re really out of it, huh?” It’s a totally rhetorical question, but Nines’s response steals the air from Gavin’s lungs.

“Still better ‘n you.”

“Huh?”

“You were _useless_ ,” Nines teases, “after your… teeth… thing.”

Gavin can feel the color rising to his cheeks. “And what exactly did I say?”

“You told me I was _pretty_.” Nines extends the last word with a sing-sing delivery. “Asked for my _number_ , ‘n everything.”

“I did _what_?” Gavin blinks.

“...what’re we talkin’ about?”

Well. Seems Nines has totally lost the train of thought. Probably just as well, Gavin doesn’t trust himself to behave like a human person in the face of his very cute boyfriend taunting him with his post-surgery antics.

“Doesn’t matter. Let’s get you some better pants.” Gavin turns to his dressers, rummaging for a moment and tossing Nines a pair of old gym shorts. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Returning to the kitchen, Gavin empties a pouch of Thirium into a chipped mug from some D.P.D. training seminar, chucking the empty packaging in the trash. He even stirs it, for good measure.

“Knock knock.” Gavin raps on the doorframe with a knuckle. It seems Nines had better luck with the shorts, as he’s curled up under the covers of Gavin’s bed, face just barely peeking out from underneath the comforter. Gavin snickers. “Comfy?”

“Very,” Nines says, smiling faintly.

“Hmm. Well,” Gavin sits next to him, “you’re gonna have to get up, you gotta take your medicine.”

Nines frowns. “Don’t wanna.”

“C’mon, ya big baby, it’s good for you.”

Nines seems to consider this, before sluggishly hauling himself upright, holding out a hand. Carefully, Gavin presses the mug into Nines’s palm, closing his fingers around it.

“If you spill that shit in here, I’m kicking you out,” Gavin threatens, though there’s no real malice behind it.

Nines just takes a small sip, wincing slightly.

Gavin uses this time to change into his usual sleep hoodie and shorts, gathering up the old clothes and tossing them into the hamper. As Nines finishes the last of his drink, Gavin sets a timer on his phone for two hours and places it on the bedside table.

“Give it here,” he says softly, pointing to the mug, and Nines hands it to him, almost immediately burrowing back under the covers. Gavin chuckles, quickly rinsing the mug out. He pulls the bedroom door shut behind him when he comes back, then shuts the blinds as well.

As he crawls under the blankets, Nines turns over to wrap Gavin in his long limbs, pulling him close into his chest.

“You’re such a fuckin’ sap,” Gavin mumbles, running his thumb over Nines’s knuckles.

“Yeah, but you love it.”

“I suppose so,” Gavin concedes. Nines gently kisses the base of his skull, and Gavin, in return, turns around and presses a soft kiss to his lips. In the semi-darkness, his LED flickers from yellow to blue.

“Love you, Tin Can.”

Nines just smiles, readjusting his grip. Gavin loves it here, safe in Nines’s arms, with not a care in the world.

He could stay here forever, if he wanted.

Nines’s eyes are closed now. Good. Gavin brings his hand up to his mouth, kissing his knuckles.

“Sleep well.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank y'all for reading! I hope you enjoyed a three day late bite-sized chunk of domestic fluff! And make sure you take care of yourselves, not all of us are so lucky as to have a Gavin to lovingly tote us to bed.
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://legendtripper.tumblr.com/) (@legendtripper) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/legendtripperb) (@legendtripperb)!
> 
> Leave a comment if you're feeling generous! When the reckoning comes, I'll be sure to pass over your house.
> 
> Be sure to check out Octopunk Media's [Detroit: Evolution](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=apUn-YMMdZ8) on YouTube, as well as its lovely director (Michelle Iannantuono) and cast (Maximilian Koger, Chris Trindade, Jillian Geurts, Carla Kim, JJ Goller, and Michael Smallwood) wherever they can be found!
> 
> And here is your not-so-friendly reminder that this is a work of fiction and to kindly refrain from shipping Maximilian and Chris. I'll poison your favorite hot beverage when you're not looking.
> 
> As Michelle would say, "Stay great, hydrate, and have a happy timezone!"


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